


Exit Stage Left

by i_write_a_lot



Category: White Collar
Genre: Chinese Food, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Mystery, Stakeouts, helpful citizens, plays, team fic, theatres, thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_a_lot/pseuds/i_write_a_lot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and Peter try to catch a mysterious thief who strikes whenever there’s a play that’s occurring on stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exit Stage Left

**Author's Note:**

> -I do not own White Collar.
> 
> -I know next to nothing about stages, plays, and that sort of thing and therefore I realize that this is probably bad to just plain *wrong*. The whole 'Stage Five' thing was mostly my attempt at how organized the back crew stage would/might be in emergencies and whatnot. It's just wishful thinking. I know the basic outline of what a stage looks like from the front, but nothing of the back, so that's why there's a lack of detail in that regard as well. I'm hoping that the idea of the story and the story itself will be good enough to overlook those details (for now), until I can find a beta or something. Thanks for reading!
> 
> -Kudos, Comments, and whatnot are much appreciated.

“You never get stage fright?” Peter asked, staring at Neal with disbelief. “Never?”

“Boss, he’s a conman. His business is probably stages. Not in the literal sense,” Jones added, hastily as the team looked at him. “But he loves putting on a show.” 

“Good point,” Peter mused, thoughtfully as he accepted his chinese food. 

“And besides,” Neal chimed in, while handing out cartons of chinese food for the team. “Mozzie would probably kill me if I had stage fright.” 

“Mozzie? Kill you? No. He’ll likely just harrange you to death about the probability of you getting stage fright and being a conman all at the same time.” Diana said cheerfully, as she was digging eagerly into the lemon chicken that she’d gotten. 

The entire team had been starving as it was just now three in the afternoon, and they’d skipped lunch while watching their prime suspect, a man who was called Darrel Johnson, talking with another man about a possible art piece that was at the Theatre of New York. The art piece was said to be able to sell for at least $100,000 dollars. 

Neal was already planning on ideas of if he was able to get that piece for himself, as it was a rare, one of a kind item-and very hard to replicate, considering that it was the original curtain to the theatre.

“I didn’t realize that curtains were art,” Diana added, as she was munching on her chicken. 

“They’re not. Not exactly. It’s the piece that opens up the art-almost as valuable, especially if that piece is extremely rare. Artists love a good show, and if they’ve got something to show before the original piece is even shown, then all the better.” Neal explained. 

“So it’s not art, but it’s still worth something to artists? Great,” Peter grumbled. “Next we’ll be chasing down bedsheets.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous Peter” Neal paused. 

“Though if they were the Queen of England’s bedsheets, that’s another matter entirely.” Neal added cheerfully. 

Peter rolled his eyes, though he made a mental note to let Hughes know about another possible item that might be a target in the future. 

“Boss,” Jones said suddenly, and they looked at Johnson who was putting on a black mask behind an alley. They could barely see him doing so. 

“Come on, guys. Neal, you go and make sure that the curtains stay where they are,” Peter ordered, as they were climbing out of the van. 

Jones gave a mournful look at his lo mein, before scrambling to follow his boss. 

Neal moved hastily towards the front of the Theatre, knowing the manager, and having a good chance of getting people out safely in case things went sideways. 

\--

Inside the theatre, there were a few people seated, but not many. Neal figured it was relatives, workers, and critics coming to watch the play that was taking place on stage. The curtains were definitely the originals, and set up-ready to fall at a moments notice. 

How the hell would the guy steal them?

He quickly moved to the side of the stage, pretending that he was one of the many stage-hands there. While there hadn’t been a lot of people sitting in the rows, there’d been a slew of people backstage working, and not to mention on the stage as well. Neal didn’t immediately recognize the play that was going on, but it was something to do with witches and kids. 

He was just moving to get to the ropes and ask the elderly guy there that was tending to them for advice, when he spotted Johnson-in his mask-coming straight towards them. 

“Quick,” Neal snapped at the stagehand next to him. “This place is about to be robbed. Is there a way to get that guy dangling up in the air so he can’t escape or steal anything?”   
The guy looked at where Neal was pointing, gulped, and quickly called out, 

“POSITION FIVE!” 

“POSITION FIVE!” A voice responded from somewhere above. A second later, and Johnson gave a strangled scream as a rope snagged him around the waist, and was dangling him above the stage.

All the performers looked on in shock and disbelief, some of the women yelling in surprise, even as the others were looking on in shock. 

Neal glanced at the stagehand that had helped him out, and grinned, 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem, dude.” The stagehand said dismissvely, and moved on to his other business. 

Neal stood underneath Johnson who was fighting against the ropes rather impressively, and snarling curses. Neal laughed. 

“Neal?” Peter asked, coming towards them. 

“Peter! Look who got caught up!” Neal said, still laughing as Johnson was kicking and swinging back and forth. 

Peter, Diana, and Jones all grinned, even as Peter spoke,

“Diana, why don’t you call this in? Tell ‘em that we got our resident thief.” He said, and Diana-still grinning like mad-said cheerfully, 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And Neal?” Peter said, making Neal turn to him. “Good job.”

“Tell that to Position Five,” Neal said with a laugh, and laughed harder when Peter only furrowed his brow as he appeared confused.   
~*~

End


End file.
